


The Book of Passion

by Udunie



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fisting, Gang Rape, Gangbang, M/M, Object Insertion, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex Pollen, Train Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-15 04:56:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5772145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Udunie/pseuds/Udunie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He just went back to grab his bag, but naturally he managed to knock the books on the counter over, the top one falling to the floor, opening in the middle. For a second he wondered if he should just leave it - Mrs. K always knew when he touched something he wasn’t supposed to, no matter how careful he was - but he couldn't just leave it there. </p><p>Miles straightened the tomes, noticing a second too late that his fingers were covered in some kind of powder. In the dim light it looked like good ol’ dust, so he didn't think anything of it, rubbing his hands together to get rid of it. He closed the shop and looked at his watch, swearing under his breath and breaking out in a jog. He only had six minutes to get to the station.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is another one for the amazing anon friend, who - as always - has delicious ideas :D
> 
> Thank you for Emma who helped get this fic in shape!

 

Miles was not particularly fond of working in the ‘Knack' but it did pay the bills. Seriously though, the place was stuffy and dark, smelling slightly like mold from all the weird shit Mrs. Kindlovitch kept stocking. Sometimes he wondered how the shop even stayed in business with the kind of crap they were selling… 

But he wasn't there to worry about the profit. No, Miles was there to restock the shelves - especially the ones that tiny Mrs. Kindlovitch couldn't reach - and to man the front while the old lady got into heated arguments in the back. Sometimes Miles was convinced that she had magic powers, especially when she managed to get hundreds of dollars for things that didn't actually worth a penny. 

Today wasn't any different except that right now she was bargaining with Mr. Leonard over a stack of dusty tomes that were falling apart at the seams. 

Miles sighed, elbows firmly planted on the counter, thinking about what a huge mistake he made when he decided that working in a ‘quirky' antique shop would be excellent practice to go with his art history degree.

Unfortunately two years later he was sorely disappointed in both the degree and the job, but it was too late to get out from either of them. Mrs. Kindlovitch actually screamed something at her long time customer - in Polish - before stomping to the front and grabbing all the cash from the register. She practically threw the money at Mr. Leonard, snatching the books from his hands and smacking them down on the front desk. 

“Get out, you foul gremlin,” she screeched, sporting her usual murder gaze until the man finally left. 

Miles was just about to peek into the book on the top, titled the ‘Book of Passion,’ but his boss slapped his hand away with surprising strength. 

“No touching, boy! These go to the back!” she growled, gathering up her purse. “I want you to rearrange the storefront by tomorrow,” she added on her way out. Miles groaned after her retreating back, not like it did any good. It was almost closing time, and doing the display would take at least two hours, especially since he couldn't touch anything in the back. The back was the ‘reserved' section, even though nobody actually reserved anything. Still. Miles wasn't allowed to sell - or even go near - the stuff there. 

He sighed, combing his fingers through his hair. He was long due for a haircut, but he had more important things to do. He had a busy few hours in front of him if he wanted to catch the last train home. 

 

***

 

Miles did the best he could, trying to make the shop look even remotely credible, though he had a feeling that he was fighting a losing battle. By the time he was finally finished, he was grumpy, tired and dirty in equal amounts. 

He didn't care. If Mrs. K didn't like it, she could do it herself, because Miles was so done that there were no words for it. 

He just went back to grab his bag, but naturally he managed to knock the books on the counter over, the top one falling to the floor, opening in the middle. For a second he wondered if he should just leave it - Mrs. K always  _ knew  _ when he touched something he wasn’t supposed to, no matter how careful he was - but he couldn't just leave it there. 

Miles straightened the tomes, noticing a second too late that his fingers were covered in some kind of powder. In the dim light it looked like good ol’ dust, so he didn't think anything of it, rubbing his hands together to get rid of it. He closed the shop and looked at his watch, swearing under his breath and breaking out in a jog. He only had six minutes to get to the station.

 

***

 

It was a close call, but he made it, somehow managing to wiggle himself on the train between the closing doors.

Wow. He had to take a few moments to just breath after his sprint, but all in all, it was totally worth it, because this was the very last train, and he had no idea what he would have done if he didn’t catch it. Not only was the  _ Knack  _ a shitty place to work in, it was also impossibly far away from his apartment. He actually had to take this line all the way to the end, and then have a ten minutes walk.

He really should just quit.

It didn’t even occur to him how crowded the car was, until someone bumped into him from behind, making him look up. Well, shit. The car was actually full. That was pretty rare for this time of the night, but it didn’t take him long to figure it out. There were a bunch of people in overalls, looking like construction workers - probably from the building they were just pulling up near the shop - and he remembered hearing that they were already slipping from the deadline.

Poor fuckers. Miles was tired enough doing nothing all day, he couldn’t imagine how exhausting it would be to do overtime in construction. The other half of the car was filled with… Some kind of sports fans. Miles wasn’t exactly big on sports, even though people always tried to rope him into basketball because of his height. He was really fucking bad at it actually, and the constant feeling of failure about that didn’t make him any more sweeter on competitive activities.

The guys were all wearing the same yellow and purple jackets and scarves. He didn’t recognize the team, but it wasn’t like he wanted to strike up a conversation. There were a few more people sitting - mostly sleeping - on the seats, apparently uncaring of the cheerful conversation of the fans.

Someone bumped into him again, making him frown. It wasn’t  _ that  _ crowded, and not like he had anywhere to go, squeezed in between the person in question and the door.

When it happened for the third time, he wanted to turn around and… do something, not like he was even remotely good at confrontations, but was stopped when a palm pushed against the middle of his back, and another fucking grabbed his ass.

Miles was frozen with shock. What. What the hell was happening? He wasn’t some dainty schoolgirl in asian porn. Okay, so he was thin and gangly, but he was a guy, he was over six feet… This wasn’t supposed to happen…

His thoughts screeched to a halt when the hand on his ass squeezed down, and he could actually hear the man behind him groan.

Miles felt his heart beat two at a time, but before he could have tried to struggle there was another person behind him, a heavy hand clasping the back of his neck and holding him in place.

“Hey, hey,” he started, voice breaking. He knew he should be shouting, but the whole situation was so… demeaning, that he had no idea what to do.

There were fingers wiggling between his chest and the cold glass of the door, sliding up his body until they found a nipple. They started rubbing him through the fabric of his shirt, the sensitive flesh peeking up in interest.

“S-stop,” he tried again, but was cut off when the hand on his ass was joined by another, this one rubbing right into his crack roughly.

Fuck, fuck, what was happening?

“So pretty,” someone said, making Miles jerk in surprise. These people were insane. They had to be. He had been called many things in his life; awkward, horse-faced and the like, but  _ pretty  _ wasn’t one of them.

He didn’t have time to think about it, because a second later someone straight up reached under him, hand forcing his legs apart as it made way to grab at his balls.

“H-huh…? Fuck…”

He tried to break free, but he had to realize - with a touch of panic - that he was completely closed in, people boxing him in from every direction, their hands groping every inch of his body.

He turned his head, hoping to… he didn’t know what he was hoping for. He could barely see anything over the crowd of construction workers, but when his eyes finally found the other group, he felt the blood drain from his face. The sport fans were looking at him. 

Miles felt his breath hitch, his skin burning with the knowledge of being watched. The men didn’t look like they found anything strange about a guy getting molested on the train, they looked… Miles didn’t want to think about it.

He opened his mouth, ready to scream, hoping that somehow he would be able to break whatever… whatever voodoo or something was going on, but as soon as he parted his lips, a hand was there, pushing thick, hairy fingers into his mouth.

He gagged a bit, but nobody cared. The people actually started to get more and more into it.

“Damn, he’s such a slut for it,” someone commented, and there was a chorus of humming in agreement to answer.

“Wanna get in him,” another voice said, and someone sneaked a hand around him, starting to massage his groin, too hard, too rough…

Miles whined. He knew it was only natural, that it wasn’t… that it wasn’t because he was enjoying this, but he still felt a rush of shame wash over him as his cock slowly started to fill under the attention.

His nipples were pinched, making his body jerk with the pain of it, but he was too busy with the fingers fucking his mouth with growing urgency to even try to object.

His brain was going fuzzy with all the sensations attacking him. He knew it was bad, that something awful was happening to him, but. There were just too many people around him, too many hands grinding and grappling at his body.

Miles barely noticed when he was pulled away from the door, but he did notice when his shirt got unbuttoned and pulled off him.

“Stop, stop…” Nobody was listening to him. He was stripped off his clothes, calloused, strong hands holding him still, no matter how hard he tried to fight.

Miles’ eyes were going blurry with tears, he didn’t understand what was going on, how all these people just went crazy all of a sudden…

“Fuck, look at those sweet little things!” said one of the man - a big guy with a shaved head, taller even than Miles himself. He wasn’t the only one who was affected by the sight of Miles’ nipples, and a second later there were mouths latching onto them, pulling hard on the sensitive buds.

Miles moaned, the sound tasting like shame in the back of his throat. His jeans were inched down on his hips, and a hand immediately dug in at the back, fingers searching for his hole and rubbing the tight ring of muscle until Miles’ knees felt shaky from the stimulation.

Someone kept licking and biting at the back of his neck, the sharp nips almost animalistic and making him want to curl in on himself. 

His legs were kicked wider apart and one of his hands was pulled to a guy’s groin, the man rutting shamelessly against his palm. He tried jerking his arm away, but it was no use.

The bald guy - who had been latched onto his left nipple - slurped loudly before chomping down. If not for the digits still stuffed into his mouth, he would have screamed. The pain was blinding and Miles wanted to hate it, but it made him jerk, hips twitching into the air, chasing friction.

Fuck. He felt dizzy, confused and lost, and more than anything; betrayed by his body. 

His cock was so hard that it hurt as it pressed against the zipper of his pants, but that didn’t last long either. Insistent hands were already there - like they somehow felt his distressed - and freed him.

“In, I need to get in…” someone muttered, and the finger at his hole started to push. It hurt. It hurt a lot.

Miles cried out in pain, suddenly terrified, but to his amazement the crowd moved, jostling the man away from him with discontented murmurs.

“No hurting, no hurting,” the bald man - who seemed to have taken leadership - whispered as he bit his way up Miles’ chest until he was nibbling on the line of his jaw, tongue darting out from time to time to lick away the sting.

He had huge hands, and now he was the one who took the other guy’s place, pushing Miles’ underwear out of the way and gripping at his ass.

“Chad, Chad!” another construction worker said breathlessly. He was holding a tube of… hand lotion.

Chad growled against Miles’s skin, kissing the corner of his mouth were it was held wide open by the fingers fucking his face.

“Yeah, yeah, gonna fuck you…”

Miles whined, squeezing his eyes together as Chad disappeared from in front of him. Someone immediately took his place, sucking on his abandoned nipple with a hungry groan.

Miles’ back arched, breath going short when he felt a hand - probably Chad’s - return to his ass, this time slick and with a whiff of lavender in the air. It was easier by then, the finger slippery as it probed his hole. He tried to clench down, but the lubrication made it almost impossible to hold out. His body gave in, and Chad was finally in, thick middle finger wiggling and thrusting into him.

“Yeah, yeah, almost there,” someone said. Miles had a hard time focusing. They were everywhere. He didn’t know how to make sense of all the waring sensations sieging his body. Somewhere along the line both his hands were taken and used by two guys to masturbate, Miles’ lax fingers coated by precome. His nipples were tight and painful from overstimulation with a deep, burning ache, but nobody cared. They just kept pulling on them, sucking and biting and…

He was crying by the time Chad added a second finger. It was too soon, the stretch sending a jolt of pain up his spine, but it was hard to differentiate between that and everything else. His body was caught in a whirlwind of sensation, pleasure and pain just kind of melted together.

“Gonna fuck you, gonna fuck you…” someone kept chanting. There were other people talking too, telling him nasty, vile things…

“I wanna shoot my load in his mouth…”

“I’m going to… I want to piss on him, can I piss on him…?

“Let me have at those tits…”

He tried to shut it all out, but it was hard. The fingers in his mouth finally disappeared. His jaw hurt, but before he could even stretch the sore muscles, someone was there, kissing him, pushing their tongue deep. It was too wet, saliva getting everywhere and the  _ sounds… _

Chad was up to three fingers, and he wasn’t playing nice, scissoring them again and again, working his hole with intent, cruel focus. When he pulled out, the relief only lasted for a second, and his cock was there, nudging him.

Miles tore his head away from the violent kiss, ready to scream, to swear, to… do anything to stop it, but it was too late, and the air froze in his lungs when Chad thrust in with a single, powerful push of his hips.

He thought it would hurt more, he almost wished he did.

There was a cheer going around the car, the construction workers’ coveralls mingling with the colorful jackets of the other group, but they all acted as one, going wild when they knew that it was finally happening, that Miles was finally being fucked.

The hands on him turned harsher, pinching his flesh, twisting his nipples, biting roughly at the tender skin of his underarms. Miles’ own hands were covered in a thick layer of come, slowly drying and making his fingers stick together, but nobody cared. Those who couldn’t wait for their turn kept jerking off, using his body.

He didn’t notice when he closed his eyes, but they flew open when the man who was kissing him again was pushed away. Miles’ head was dizzy from Chad pistoning in and out of his ass, the whole motion just a constant, slow burn inside him, warming his belly slowly, making him wish he was unconscious.

There was a guy in front of him. He wasn’t tall, but he was built like a house, a shock of blond hair and piercing eyes. He was wearing one of the yellow-purple jackets, and his cock was hanging out of his jeans.

Fuck. His dick looked incredibly long.

“Get out of the way,” he growled, and the people sucking on his nipple jumped like they were slapped. Chad had other ideas. He grabbed Miles with one hand around his middle, the other across the chest, pulling him close.

He didn’t stop fucking, his cock punching out moan after moan from Miles. The change in position was enough to shift the angle of his cock, to make it skid across his prostate on almost every stroke. His own dick was dripping precome as it bounced from the hard thrusts.

Miles was dimly aware that the two men were locked in a staring contest over him, but his spine felt like jelly from the constant pounding, enough that Chad was the only thing holding him out.

There was a hush over the car.

“Have his mouth,” Chad said finally. He kept one hand wrapped around Miles’ belly, and bent his body by the waist. The blond guy didn’t need to be told twice, he grabbed Miles’ face and pushed his cock against his lips.

His jaw still hurt, and he didn’t have time to react before that long cock was forcing it’s way inside, skidding over his tongue and making him gag as it hit the back of his throat.

The sound of his choking broke the silence, and everyone was in a flurry of motion again. Someone stepped up and grabbed a handful of his hair, rubbing the head of his dick into his scalp, wrapping the dark strands around his length.

Miles gagged again and again, but the blond didn’t stop, just kept pushing and hushing him.

“Doing so good, so good, so good… Gonna fuck that pretty mouth pussy you have…”

There were tears running down Miles’ face, mixing with the saliva frothing at the corner of his mouth. He kept swallowing to stop himself from throwing up, and it made the guy ecstatic.

“Yeah, yeah, just like that, baby, milk that cock, milk it!”

It was almost like the two men entered some kind of competition, because Chad took that moment to speed up, hammering into him with enough force that the other guy bottomed out when Miles was jostled forward.

There was a second when both of them were in him all the way, one filling his ass, the other wedged into his throat that just… short circuited his brain.

Miles couldn’t think anymore. Couldn’t react, just let them do as they pleased, eyes glassy as he was jerked back and forth between them with the crowd cheering. There was come stuck in his hair, sliding down behind his ear. Someone was fucking his armpit. Someone was kneeling below him, hands busy pulling his nipples while he bit on his stomach.

Miles came, untouched cock twitching into nothing. It was like they all forgot about that part of him, and immediately, there were two mouths on his dick, sucking on the head and nipping at his balls.

It was too much, he just came, he couldn’t…

But nobody cared, they kept on sucking and rubbing and fucking.

His last memory was the bitter taste of semen in the back of his tongue, and come bubbling out of his hole beside Chad’s cock.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second part of this lovely, filthy little fic.  
> You can all thank my wonderful anon friend for giving me the best ideas :D
> 
> Also, many thanks to the lovely Emma who kept me on track and cheered me on!

**** When Miles woke up, he wanted - he needed - to believe that everything had been a nightmare. He was in his own bed, for god’s sake, so it had to be.

Except, the second he shifted he had to hiss, muscles too sore to function. But, what was even more alarming was the unmistakable feeling of something slick sliding out from his hole. His whole lower body was a mess, thighs sticking together from tacky, dried come. His pubic hair was matted down, crusted with jizz.

His ass clenched involuntarily, to stop… stuff from leaking out, but it just made him groan, eyes squeezed tight. Huck, his hole was aching, a dull, throbbing pain of being used too much.

He was scared for a moment, afraid that something was wrong as he dragged himself into the shower, but there’s no blood, no alarming stab of pain signalling anything being torn. It seemed he wasn’t injured. Just used.

 

***

 

He wasn’t sure about what to do, not for a long time. On one hand, he felt the need to warn people about what happened, because it just wasn’t right. On the other… there was a nagging notion in his head, flashing memories of him coming, of how good it felt at one point. There was shame, so much shame.

But he couldn’t just let things slide. Whatever made people go absolutely crazy yesterday, he didn’t want it to happen to anyone else. He couldn’t. The Police station was deserted on such a quiet Sunday morning. It took him some time to get there. He could have gotten a cab, but even with being sore all over, he decided to walk, if only to clear his head.

There was a woman behind the front desk, uniform spotless as she shuffled some files around.

Miles felt his palms growing sweaty as he stepped closer. Fuck. What the hell was he even supposed to say?

“Good morning, sir, how can I help you?” she asked, immediately on attention. Miles gave her a shaky smile.

“I… I would like to make a report.”

She nodded. She looked a bit spaced out, but that might have been the effect of the morning. Miles had a feeling that usually he didn’t look much better at 8am either.

“Sure… What would you like to report?” she leaned on the counter, breasts pillowed on her arms crossed in front of her.

“It’s. Um. Sexual assault,” he said finally. He had a plan forming. Maybe he could tell them that he’s only a witness. That way they would know that there was something to look for without drilling him too much about it.

She nodded, smiling up at him.

“Alright. The officers are having a little briefing, you can wait for them in one of the interview rooms.”

She led the way. Miles felt like she was being a bit too friendly, but maybe he was just suspicious. It would have been understandable.

The room wasn’t much. Gray walls, a metal desk with two chairs on opposite sides… there was no mirror though.

“Someone should be with you in a few,” the woman said, hesitating in the door. She seemed a bit weird, and when she finally left, Miles breathed a sigh of relief.

He kept shifting in his seat, ass still too tender for sitting in one place for long. It just made him more aware of what happened. He couldn’t help thinking about it, about all those hands grabbing him and holding him down… His cock gave a little twitch and he could feel his face turning red fast enough to make him dizzy. He wasn’t supposed to be turned on by that. He wasn’t.

He still jumped when the door opened, a plainclothes officer and one with a uniform filing in. The policeman was huge, even taller than Miles and that was a foot. The detective was much shorter, but obviously built for handling suspects. They both stopped in the door for a second before closing it behind them.

“Morning, sir. I’m Detective Web, and this is Officer Banks,” the shorter one said. Miles stood - not even knowing why - and they stepped close. A bit too close.

“Um, Hello, I’m Miles Johnson,” he said, holding out a hand. The detective took it. His palm was rough and warm, and Miles hoped that he was just imagining him holding their handshake a few seconds too long. “I would like to…”

He couldn’t finish, because the officer was putting a large hand on his shoulder, squeezing it.

“Just a second… We have to conduct a search - it’s protocol,” Banks said. Something wasn’t right.

He still went, the policeman steering him towards the wall. 

“Spread your legs, sir,” he said, leaning close. It sent a shiver down Miles’ spine. Fuck. But it wasn’t like he could run away, not from a fucking police station, so he did, putting his hands on the wall. He could feel Officer Banks’ body behind him, radiating heat.

He tensed up at the first touch. The man patted his shoulders, his back, then his sides. His hands lingered there, squeezing down on his waist before sliding forward to smooth over his belly. Miles was sweating with too many feelings. He wanted to scream. He wanted to whimper, and it didn’t make sense.

Banks was making a sound, a kind of rumbling noise that vibrated the air as he stepped even closer, chest pressing against Miles’ back. His hands wandered lower, over his crotch and palmed the bulge they found there.

Fuck. Fuck, when did he start getting hard?

“Well, well, well… What do we have here, sir?” he asked, low and dangerous. Miles was close to panicking.

He was just about to… about to do something when the detective pushed in close.

“Did you find something?” 

Banks chuckled, squeezing Miles’ erection and making him swallow whatever protest he had.

“Sure did, boss. Freak is getting horny from a simple search.”

He was humiliated beyond belief, he couldn’t believe it, but it seemed like it was happening again…

“Please let me go,” Miles pleaded, eyes squeezed tight. For a second, he thought it worked, because Banks pulled back, but his relief was short lived as a pair of strong hands grabbed his ass, massaging his flesh. He did whimper, and it soon turned into a moan when the officer pulled his cheeks apart and the detective rubbed the side of his hand between them, right over his quivering hole.

Miles’ knees almost gave out, but before he could fall he was turned around, his hands grabbed and handcuffed in front of him.

“Wh…? No, no, please!”

“Shut up, bitch,” Web snarled as he tore Miles’ his shirt apart, making a button fly off. The detective pulled his t-shirt up and over his head until it was stuck behind his neck.

He couldn’t move. He didn’t know if it was terror or something else, but he just knew that there was no escaping, not from this.

“I think we will need reinforcements, Banks…” the detective said, grinning. His pupils were blown wide as he looked at all the bruises and bite marks on Miles’ chest.

“Roger that, sir,” the officer said taking a second to take a nipple between his fingers and  _ twist _ before walking out.

Miles cried out, too distracted by the burst of pain to put up a fight as Web dragged him to the table, pushing him onto his back and securing his handcuffs above his head.

His ass was hanging off the end, and the detective started working on his jeans immediately.

“Look at you, coming here, just itching for it…” he said, though it seemed like he wasn’t really talking to Miles.

He tried kicking out once, but his body was burning up, the memories from last night overwhelming his brain. By the time Banks was back with two more uniformed officers, he was naked below the waist.

The new policemen seemed to stop in their tracks with shock as soon as they saw him, but it only took a moment for them to go glassy eyes, crowding close.

Miles was crying, he didn’t even know why. His cock was hard and his blood was buzzing in his veins.

Banks put a duffel bag he brought down on the table, fishing out a large tube of lube.

“Lucky me, just ran to the pharmacy this morning because I ran out at home,” he said with a grin, squirting a generous amount on his fingers.

“Please…” he didn’t know what he was asking for, and nobody listened anyway. His legs were grabbed and folded over his chest until his knees almost touched the table beside his head.

Somebody moaned as his hole was exposed.

“Damn, fuck, look at that, little pussy blinking at us…” one of the newcomers said. Banks hummed in agreement, pushing two of his thick fingers right into Miles’ hole, making his back arch as much as he could in that position. It burned, but wasn’t too painful. He was pretty sure he was still a bit loose from yesterday.

“Give me that,” the detective said, taking the tube and slicking his own fingers up too. Banks reluctantly shuffled a bit to the side so he could get closer. 

Miles was shaking his head, pleading with them, but it was no use, a moment later he felt even more fingers prodding at him. There was lube dripping down his crack. Web swore under his breath as he forced a digit into him, beside the two Banks already had in him.

That burn was going right to his head, making him dizzy and disoriented.

“Little bitch. His all used and still acts like he doesn’t want it…” he growled, twisting his wrist and pressing another finger into him. Miles was going to pass out. He was pretty sure.

One of the other officers holding him down - the one that looked the youngest, barely out of the academy - was chanting ‘whore-whore-whore’ under his breath.

His ass hurt, but his cock was still hard, drooling precome on his stomach.

“Work that tit,” Banks said to the young officer, and the guy did, pinching the little nub and pulling on it. It made the dark bitemark around it flare up with pain, making Miles see stars. The officer didn’t stop chanting, stressing every ‘whore’ with a twist-and-pull. 

“St-stop… stop, please.”

It was too much, he was going to die.

The policeman on his other side grabbed his hair, turning his head towards him, spitting into Miles’ open mouth.

“Shut up, shut the fuck up!” he said, pulling on his hair and spitting on him again and again.

Miles was shaking, body struggling to take in everything that was happening. 

He couldn’t tell how many fingers were in his ass anymore, but it was more than before, digging into him, stretching his muscles without mercy. There was spit sliding down the bridge of his nose, raising goosebumps all over his skin, and his nipple felt swollen and inflamed from the constant, unrelenting tugs.

When the prodding digits pulled back, he didn’t know if he was moaning with loss or relief…

Web shouldered the officer out of the way, angry red cock straining as he lubed it up.

“I’m the highest ranking,” he bit out, pushing inside so suddenly that it punched the air out of Miles. “You will get the next turn.”

Banks didn’t seem happy. He walked around the table, climbing on it until he was kneeling by Miles’ head. He had a huge cock, thick and covered in veins.

“Fine,” he growled, slapping the wet head of it against Miles’ cheek, rubbing the spit there into his skin.

Miles barely heard him. The detective wasn’t playing around, fucking into him hard and fast, cock making slurping, wet noises as it slid in the excess lube.

“Whore-whore-whore-whore…” the youngest guy was still going, even though Miles’ nipple had almost gone numb with the pain. Banks slapped the officer in the back of the head.

“Change it up, would you? The other side is getting lonely.”

The officer looked at him dumbly for a minute, but then finally understood what he was saying and left the abused nipple alone, only to start torturing the other one. Miles bit his lip, the new waves of pain coursing down his spine.

Banks was yanking on his hair, forcing his head back and tapping his cock against his face, making him all tacky with precome.

The detective started grunting, low and guttural as he slammed his hips forward. He cried out when he came, and Miles could actually feel the way he spurted into him. That was all it took for Banks to get off the table, it was his turn to show Web out of the way. He squirted some lube on his cock and started pushing in, the difference in size immediately obvious.

The detective haven’t been small, but Banks was huge, forcing his hole open wide.

Miles was panting, trying to relax. He told himself that he only wanted to make it easier on himself, and not because he couldn’t wait for the man to be in him.

 

***

 

He was barely conscious by the time the youngest officer was fucking him. He was dimly aware that he was drooling, eyes having a hard time to focus. They still didn’t let him come, even though he started to beg after Banks was finished, big cock wrecking his hole to the point where it just wouldn’t close.

The kid, because seriously, he had to be younger than Miles, fucked like a teenager, fast and uncoordinated, eyes clenched and mouth hanging stupidly open.

The others were cheering on him.

“That’s it, Billy boy! Show the bitch who’s the boss,” Banks said, he was standing close, finger playing on Miles’ perineum, rubbing it and lightly scratching it with his nails. It made his breath hitch.

The detective snorted, he was behind Miles. His cock was  getting hard again, and he kept pushing it into his curls, the head dripping precome over his scalp.

“Ple… Please let me, let me c-come,” he said again. His cock was going to fall off, it hurt so much. He almost managed to shoot just from the third fuck, but he missed his chance, and Billy was too caught up in the experience to aim at him prostate.

He pulled at his cuffs weakly, but Banks lightly pinched the thin skin of his balls in warning.

“Stop that, bitch. You ain’t coming before we’re all finished,” he said, “You should be grateful we were willing to satisfy your needy cunt.”

Billy stuttered to a stop, making sounds like a donkey as he shot his load.

Miles didn’t know what to feel now that it was over. Maybe they would let him go…

The young officer pulled out and made some distressed noises, quickly jabbing four fingers into Miles’ hole, making him hiss.

“It’s coming out, it’s all coming out,” Billy said, looking from one man to the other for help.

“Well, we can’t let happen, now, can we?” Banks asked with a grin. He stepped back for a second, fiddling with his belt. When he raised his flashlight, Miles felt his eyes widen. It was at least a foot long, smooth and as think as a wrist.

“No! No, no, no…” he said, voice cracking.

Nobody was listening. 

“Step back, Billy boy, I will take care of it,” Banks said. As soon as the young officer pulled his fingers out, he was there, forcing the end of the flashlight inside. Even with all the stretching and after four rounds of being fucked, it burned as it went inside, making Miles’ eyes roll back.

The detective was laughing.

“Yeah, make him come on that, the bitch is going to love it,” he said, and Banks need any more encouragement. He started thrusting it inside, pushing and pushing and pushing until the whole thing went in, so deep that Miles could almost feel it in his belly.

“Oh, yeah. That’s it, whore. Your cunt is so hungry, it’s swallowing it without a hitch,” he murmured. When he pulled it out and thrust it forward again it was both the best and worst thing that Miles felt that night.

He kept up a steady rhythm, fucking him with the thick, unyielding metal until he was whining constantly, going out of his mind with want. Banks waited until he was crying before he twisted the flashlight, changing the angle just enough to make it slid over his prostate.

Miles screamed as he came, head going light and spinny as his cock jerked, painting his belly white with jizz.

He blacked out for a second or two. He had to, because the next time he became aware of his body, the flashlight was gone, replaced by four meaty fingers. It was still Banks between his legs, pumping his hand leisurely, enjoying the sounds.

Miles’ stomach did a weird flop as he listened to the sloshing, gurgling noises his hole made as all the come and lube was stirred up inside him.

He wanted to say something, to tell them to let him go, but his throat was too dry, his lungs too weak to formulate the words.

“Can you really do it?” the detective asked, voice tight. He was rubbing the head of his cock in to the shell of Miles’ ear.

“Sure can, boss. Gonna wreck the bitch completely,” Banks said. Miles moaned, not understanding what they were talking about, but sure that he didn’t want it.

“Such a whore, such a whore,” Billy said. He was half-laying on the table beside Miles, suckling and biting hat this nipple. His mouth was hot and insistent, teeth sharp as he dug them into his flesh.

Banks took some more lube - half of the bottle was already missing - and smeared it over his hand, pushing until he was in to the knuckles.

Miles was dizzy. It didn’t hurt. He had no idea how long they stretched him, how long he had been out, but his hole barely felt like his own; it was loose and lax, clenching down from time to time like he wanted to suck the man’s fingers deeper inside.

“Here I go,” Banks said. Miles only understood what he was planning when he pulled back a bit, tucking him finger to his palm before pushing forward again.

He made a few, pathetic noises of protest, trying in vain to clamp down and stop it from happening, but. But his hole was too far gone, so used and saggy that the man barely had to struggle to pop his whole hand through that abused ring of muscle. Miles sobbed, unable to make sense of the feeling.

The men in the room cheered as Banks rotated his wrist, causing Miles’ soft cock to splurt out a few drops of come.

“Now, that’s what I call fucked out,” the detective said. It was the last thing Miles heard.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at udunie.tumblr.com


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